Despite the eventful evening she had, dining and dancing with her suitors, Princess Glorianna insisted on taking a stroll through the rose garden. To Sir Walden, she didn’t seem the least bit tired or perhaps she did well in hiding it. If he had to wager a guess, perhaps she was feeling restless. The king and queen were holding a week’s worth of banquets and balls in celebration of her coming of age. They invited the nobles of their great kingdom, Sigismonda, and extended the invitation to their allies as well, those of royal lineage and nobility traveling from far and wide in order to see the crown princess. She was to spend time with each of them and pick the one she wished to wed by the end of the week. She had quite a number of suitors to choose from, all of whom had been vying for her attention in the dining hall and the ballroom earlier that night.

Sir Walden couldn’t blame them. If he were in their place, he’d do everything he could to win her heart. If he were in their place, he’d talk with her about her past times and duties over a grand feast. If he were in their place, he’d offer her his hand and ask her if she wished to dance with him. She’d give him her golden gloved hand and allow him to lead her in a waltz. Her wavy golden hair and her golden gown would sway as they moved about the ballroom floor, her emerald eyes beaming at him, only him. The other suitors would be reduced to onlookers, forced to look on as their chances with the princess slipped further and further away. Unfortunately, all of this was but a fantasy he indulged himself in as he watched her from the sidelines. In reality, all he could ever be for Princess Glorianna was her sword and shield, her protector, her knight.

As such, he led her through the corridors of the castle, the lantern he held (as well as the torches fastened to the walls) illuminating their path. She didn’t speak a word to him. All that could be heard between them were the sound of their footfalls, his boots and her heels on the marble floor. She acknowledged the guards they passed, however, addressing them by name as she gave them an amiable greeting. They responded in kind. Although he felt ignored, he couldn’t help but admire how well she treated her servants. In all of the time he has known her, (which was his whole life), she treated everyone she came across with the same courtesy and respect, regardless of their class.

When they reached the courtyard, Princess Glorianna stopped in front of the rose garden and turned to him, finally breaking the silence between them. “Sir Walden, would you please follow me inside?” She asked, softly, betraying a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course, princess.” He complied, following her through the garden until they arrived at a dead end. She turned to face him, but she appeared to be hesitant, fiddling with her fingers. He felt compelled to ask. “If I may be so bold, princess -?”

“No,” she interrupted. “As of this moment, I am not your princess. I am just Glorianna. I ask that you please address me as such. For tonight, at least.”

His eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what she was asking of him. She was asking him to speak to her as if he were her equal. How many times had he dreamed of being with her like this, freed from their titles and obligations? He shook his head. As much as he yearned for this, his dreams couldn’t possibly cross over into reality. Not without consequences. “I’m afraid that I cannot do that, princess.”

“Why not?” She asked, irate.

“With all due respect, princess, I doubt that I need to tell you why.”

“Why must you be so stubborn? There’s no need for any pretense here. We have no audience to entertain.”

She took his hands into a gentle hold. He exhaled through his nose and blushed as his eyes trailed to her red, heart-shaped lips, any sense of resolve he had crumbling. Although her back was to the wall, he was the one who was cornered. She got him trapped here in this maze of roses, offering him something he might never get again. He knew what that was, but he had to be sure. He had to ascertain her intentions. “What do you want from me, Princess Glorianna?”

“I don’t want to be with Sir Walden, the knight.” She took the lantern from his grasp and lowered herself down so that she could set it onto the ground. Once she straightened herself up again, she proceeded to move her hands up his muscled arms, over his wide shoulders, and around his neck. Her soft body pressed up against him, the sweet scent of roses overpowering his senses. “I want to be with Walden, the man.”

Walden gave into temptation, kissing her lips, holding her slender form close. He could taste the berries and wine she had earlier on her breath, vaguely reminded of the banquet, the ball, the feelings of longing and jealousy that cut him deeper than any blade could. He deepened the kiss and she moaned into his mouth, kindling the fire in his loins. He ached for more, to hold her closer still, to get underneath the skirt of her gown and bury himself in her heat. Judging by the way she kissed him and tugged at his pants, she wanted him just as much. They broke apart, panting, their hot breath overlapping in the cool night air. Her eyes were darkened with lust for him, only him. She eased herself down onto the ground and he followed, straddling her waist as he brought their lips back together in a fiery kiss.

Only the heavens above would know of their first and last consummation.

April 12th might’ve been just another day for those who spoke, but to Erin Sweeney and those like her, it was a time to make a statement by not saying anything at all. That in itself wouldn’t be too much of a problem for her, considering that she was shy. She’d much rather keep quiet in class, if she could help it. What really put her on edge, though, was the possibility of being found out by other students.

Erin planned on participating in The Day of Silence with her girlfriend, Zoey Moore, weeks in advance, but the nerves didn’t really hit her until the night before. She hardly slept and when it was time for her to get up, she felt sick to her stomach. She kind of felt like skipping, but she didn’t want to disappoint Zoey.

After dating for half a year, she still felt bad about being half in the closet. Sure, their parents knew they were going out and they were supportive and all, which was great, but no one else knew, not even their friends. So, on some level, they were seeing each other in secret. At the very least, Erin wanted to do this for her.

It wasn’t like she was ashamed of Zoey or anything. How could she be? Zoey was amazing. If anything, she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself, which proved to be pretty difficult at times, given her bright red, curly hair.

People would oftentimes pick on her for it, call her a ginger, tell her that she had no soul. Last year, the girl who sat behind her in math class went so far as to stick gum in her hair, snickering with her friend about it all the while. Erin still wasn’t over that. It was because of that incident that she started wearing hats to school and today was no different.

After throwing on a pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt, she put on a Yankees cap and headed downstairs to have breakfast. Her mom could see that she was anxious. She wasn’t exactly good at hiding it, especially from her mom, who made her some toast and sat with her at the table as she nibbled on it, offering her words of encouragement. They did little to abate her nerves, but Erin knew that she meant well, and she appreciated it. Not every parent was as accepting as hers, or Zoey’s for that matter, which is something that she’ll always be grateful for.

Erin managed to eat about a third of toast before she had to go. She slipped on her sneakers and put the lunch her mom made her into her backpack. Her mom sent her off with an umbrella, a hug, a kiss and then she was out of the door.

It hadn’t started raining yet, but it was dark and cloudy out, as if it could rain at any moment. She arrived at the bus stop to see that a few other people who went to the same high school as her were already there, either tapping away on their phones or staring off into space. Erin stood a considerable distance away from them and shifted from one foot to the other as she waited for the bus to arrive.

It didn’t take that long to show up, but by then, it was already packed. Thankfully, she was able to sit in the front. Although she’d rather not be squished in between two people, it was better than the alternative, which was to sit in the back where the most rambunctious group always seemed to sit. They indulged in mindless chatter about celebrity culture and physical appearances, homophobic slurs leaving their mouths just as easily as their curses. Erin tensed, holding her backpack close. No one else seemed to react. Not the bus driver, not the other passengers. They just listened to their iPods, used their phones, or waited to get to school, like it was only natural for people to speak this way, like it was okay.

When they arrived, Erin left the claustrophobic space and breathed a sigh of relief, striding underneath the awning and into the school. Compared to the bus, the hallways were much quieter, although there were some people who talked to one another. The teachers she had before lunch spoke, too, but they respected those who chose to remain silent, going about the day like usual, just as she did. She remained silent, not wanting to be seen, but to blend into the background, just as a chameleon would, invisible.

At lunch, she emerged from the background enough to be seen by Zoey, who looked as happy as she felt about seeing her. Zoey looked cool today. She looked cool every day. She had her long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her hazel eyes were shining. She was a star, ready to be discovered, adorned in a black cardigan, a Paramore t-shirt, ripped jeans, and boots.

The mere sight of her had freed Erin from the loneliness that held her down until then. She was overcome with the urge to hug her. They were both girls so it should be fine, right? They’d be seen as just two friends hugging. But on the off chance that they wouldn’t be... There were too many eyes in the cafeteria. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t find it in her to hold Zoey’s hand, either. What kind of girlfriend was she?

They walked side-by-side to find a table, together yet apart, choosing to sit at the third one closest to the door. They sat across from one another and got out their lunches and iPhones. It didn’t take long for hers to buzz with a text.

‘u doing ok erin?’ Zoey frowned at her, worriedly.

‘im doing better now that ur here’, Erin replied. ‘hbu?’

Zoey’s face broke out into a smile. ‘same wish that i could hug and kiss u tho xo’

Erin felt a pang in her heart. ‘im sorry’

Zoey shook her head, empathically. ‘dont be i understand besides therell be plenty of time for that l8er ;)’ She winked.

Erin smiled, rubbing her neck as she blushed. ‘ur the best <3’

‘no u r xoxo’ Zoey playfully pointed at her.

Sometimes Erin wondered what she did to deserve such an amazing girl. ‘we still going to the movies l8er?’

‘uh yea we r y wouldnt we??’

‘well u havent picked a movie yet’

‘wat?‘ Zoey looked at her, confused. ‘i thought u were supposed 2 pick?’

‘no u were’

‘ooo well guess that depends wanna c a romance a marvel movie or a disney movie?’

‘c’mon i picked last time its ur turn’

‘but it’s a 3way tie 4 me i cant decideeeeee’

‘hmmm how bout marvel?’

‘nice! i like me some kickass women’

‘great now ull b staring at captain marvel the whole movie’

‘well yea she is the main character the both of us will b staring at her a lot unless the movie bores me 2 death then my eyes will be all urs’

Erin rolled her eyes, fondly. ‘oh plz if anything ull b falling asleep on my shoulder’

Zoey chuckled. ‘haha cant argue w/ u there’

They continued to text until they finished eating and spent the rest of the lunch period sitting beside each other, listening to music on Zoey’s iPod. As much as she didn’t like school at times, Erin was grateful for it because this was where she met Zoey.

Last year, in art class, they were told to draw their idol as their first project, and Erin drew her mom. Zoey just so happened to be late to class that day. She told Ms. Jones it was because she had to go to the bathroom, that it was an emergency. Ms. Jones was pretty lenient about it. She just told Zoey to take a seat. Since most of the seats were taken, Zoey sat next to her and offered her a friendly smile. Erin couldn’t help but smile back. Her smile was so infectious. While Erin was in the middle of sketching the features of her mom’s round face (her thin eyebrows, her hooded eyes, her small , her thin lips and freckles), Zoey complimented her on her drawing. Erin had gotten flustered. She wasn’t used to getting attention like this.

Erin was sure to thank her and looked over to Zoey’s sketch, recognizing the picture she used as reference to be of Hayley Williams from Paramore. Erin felt a spark of interest and complimented Zoey on her drawing, insisting that it was good even when Zoey told her that she didn’t do Hayley justice. As they drew, they talked about their favorite Paramore songs and the rest was herstory.

Fortunately, they were in the same class again this year and they even got to sit next to each other, too. Their math teacher, Mrs. Giordano, started the class off by writing a message on the board: ‘Good afternoon, everyone. As you might already know, today is The Day of Silence. As a lesbian, I’ve decided to participate, and I ask that you all respect my decision to stay silent. Of course, I have great respect for those who have decided to participate as well, but don’t think this means that there won’t be a lesson because of this. Anyone who has decided to remain silent could communicate through writing and I will do the same. Now, I ask that you open your textbooks and finish where we left off yesterday...’

Mrs. Giordano was a lesbian? Erin never knew. She automatically assumed that she was straight, just like she did with everyone else, so she thought that she had a husband. Looked like she was wrong.

Mrs. Giordano had admitted it so easily, too. Even though a group of boys were whispering some less than savory words in the back, she remained unbothered. She just sat down behind her desk and waited for everyone to finish the math problems she assigned to them. Erin was in awe of her bravery.

As she got to work, Erin wondered how long it took Mrs. Giordano to get to this point, to be this confident and composed in the face of possible ridicule. Would she ever get to that point? Erin glanced at Zoey, wondering if she could ever be that brave for her.

After a considerable amount of time passed, Mrs. Giordano rose to her feet and erased her message before she wrote down the first problem, asking. ‘Who could solve this problem for me?’ She tapped the board with the chalk to point out the question.

Erin knew the answer to this one. She was about to raise her hand when she hesitated. Did she really want all of those eyes on her? Besides, what if her answer turned out to be wrong?

She felt her arm being poked and turned to Zoey, who pointed at her hand before she pointed up. It took her a second to realize that Zoey was encouraging her to raise her hand. Erin faced the front again and noticed that no one else had their hand raised. Mrs. Giordano surveyed the room, expectantly. Was she waiting for someone to raise their hand or was she going to pick on someone? Erin looked to Zoey again, who mouthed, ‘you can do it.’

Her pounding heart did a little twirl. Zoey believed in her. No one believed in her as much as Zoey did (with the exception of her parents, but they weren’t here right now). This wasn’t the first time Zoey encouraged her, but for some reason, it was the first time she wanted to try. Maybe it was because of Mrs. Giordano herself, who made her feel a little less alone, a little more hopeful.

Slowly, Erin raised her hand until Mrs. Giordano picked her. She stood up and brought her notebook up to the board, taking the chalk from Mrs. Giordano. She wrote down all of the work she did, her hand shaking, her face heating up all the while. Her numbers wound up being big and awkward compared to Mrs. Giordano’s, but as she returned to her desk, no one seemed to care. If anything, everyone either looked bored or disinterested.

Erin sat back down and Zoey patted her on the back. She did it. She actually got up in front of the class and wrote on the board. Step by step, Mrs. Giordano went over the problem, writing down how to solve it on the side. It turned out that she solved it correctly, after all. Mrs. Giordano even wrote, ‘...Good job, Erin!’ It made her feel good to have her work appreciated, even if she wasn’t that crazy about math. The thumbs-up Zoey gave her added to the feeling, making her feel happy and proud, even if her armpits turned out to be a little sweatier in the end.

Erin didn’t see Zoey again until classes were done for the day and by then, it was raining outside. Because Zoey forgot her umbrella, they had to huddle underneath hers. No one seemed to pay them any mind. Their main focus, at the moment, seemed to be getting out of the rain, rushing to cars to get picked up or catching the bus. Thinking of it that way, Erin was able to wrap her arm around Zoey’s and pull her closer with little fear. The smile Zoey gave her made the chance she just took worth it.

Later, at the Atrium, Erin took another chance by reaching out to hold Zoey’s hand on their way into the theater. Again, nobody noticed or maybe they did and they just didn’t care. Either way, Erin felt proud to walk alongside Zoey, holding her hand.

They were still a ways from being out. Outside of their houses, they were still the most comfortable holding hands, cuddling, and kissing in the darkness of a movie theater. But one day, Erin hoped that they’d be comfortable enough to be as open as Mrs. Giordano and her wife are. One day, Erin hoped that she’d have enough bravery to bring her love for Zoey into the light.

Those who bothered to show up to Aunt Vivienne's wake offered Isabella their condolences before they gathered in small groups spread throughout the room, speaking in hushed voices as they comforted those who were clearly distraught. Funny how they decided to be here for Aunt Vivienne in death when they weren't there for her while she was still alive, struggling to get better, to stay sober. Unbeknowst to them, however, the only one who could be there for Aunt Vivienne now was her because she was the only one who could see her apparition.

Fingertips of sunlight touch the buds

To wake them from their slumber.

They rise from their patches of soil,

Stretching their green limbs up towards the sky

As if they're acceping a hug from the morning light.

Invigorated, they prance over to the garden

Where they rejoice in the company of their friends,

Dancing in a beautiful display of colors.

When I was younger, I thought there was something wrong with me. I wasn’t like the other kids. I wasn’t able to socialize with the same ease as them. They made talking look as easy as breathing. It came so naturally for them. They were natural born speakers. I wasn’t.

I found it difficult to approach people. Even when they were talking with me, I found it hard to truly connect. I’d either draw blanks or ask myself what I should say. I felt more like an observer than an actual person, an alien that was studying and observing the humans around her. I was on the outside, looking in, wishing more than anything that I could be one of the in-people. I wanted to fit in, to belong.

The difference between me and them drew a wedge between me and reality. I’d distance myself from everyone and immerse myself in the worlds that I found in books and anime. I’d distance myself from the person I was and live through the character I was reading or watching. I’d break away from myself and by breaking away from myself, I’d be rejecting myself. Over and over and over. For minutes. For hours. For days. For months. For years.

I hated myself for not being someone else. I hated myself for being myself. This self-hatred became ingrained in me, feeding the bully that had already taken shape in my mind. A voice that constantly put me down. A voice that made me want to escape even more.

My mom sought help for me. She saw my anxiety. She saw how withdrawn I was. So, she led me to a person and a place where I could air out everything. Let out all of the feelings that had been plaguing me, drawing me closer and closer to an eternal silence. A permenant escape.

I was diagnosed with depression and social anxiety disorder, or S.A.D. for short. A fitting acronym, given the circumstances. I was put on medication, but that wasn’t the end to it. I still succumbed to the bully’s cruel words. I still hurt myself, as punishment for being myself, as an escape from the tumultuous feelings that I had inside.

Even so, I fought. I spoke back to the bully, but she didn’t go away. She would never go away because she was a part of me. She was my insecurity. She was my weakness. She was my mental illness. As long as I live, she’ll still be here in my head, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t change. That doesn’t mean that she’ll be a bully for the rest of my life.

I learned that it’s no good to keep fighting her. It’s just another way of denying her existence. In order to live a better, much more fulfilling life, I have to take the steps necessary to make peace with her. I have to embrace her, hold her close and apologize. Apologize for pushing her away and denying her for so long. I have to tell her that it’s okay for her to be here and that we’ll handle whatever problem that comes our way together. Because when all is said and done, she’s a part of me. She’s my insecurity, my weakness, my mental illness.

She deserves attention. She deserves to be taken care of. She deserves better. I deserve better and I will do better to see to it that I take care of every part of myself.

“You should eat more,” the other model told her. “Put more meat on those bones.”

It could’ve been a harmless comment, but it plagued Anna’s thoughts the whole way home. She thought that she was doing better. That she was eating more. That she had more meat on her bones. Not that much more, though. She still kept track of what she ate. She wanted to stay skinny, but she wanted to be healthy, too.

Anna stepped off the bus, once again exposed to the frigid weather. She hunched her shoulders and dug her hands into her coat pockets as she blinked away tears. Despite the layers of clothes she wore, the cold still found a way to seep in. She shivered and quickened her pace, heading straight home, back to the apartment she shared with her girlfriend.

Cassidy knew something was wrong the moment she walked in the door. As Anna unraveled, Cassidy was there to comfort her. She was there to wrap her up in blankets, to make her decaffienated tea that chased the chills from her body.

“You’re doing great, babe.” Cassidy reassured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t you ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

One night, Mom and I went our separate ways after we watched a game show together. She hit the casino to play slots and I headed back to our room. I took the elevator to our floor and walked towards the Starboard side. I wasn't alone. Two rambunctious guys followed behind me in the midst of a drunken conversation. The way they spoke reminded me of a couple of frat boys.

I assumed the worst. They were two men. I was one woman. There was no one else here in this narrow hallway. If they tried anything, I wouldn't be able to do much to defend myself. I tensed and quicked my pace down the hall.

When I finally reached my room, I pulled my key card out of its lanyard and slid it into the card reader. The small square above it flashed green, permitting my entry, and I pushed the door open just to have it collide with the bathroom door.

One of the guys noticed this and commented. "Looks like they don't want you inside." The other guy chuckled.

That got my blood pumping. I had to get into the room. I had to get into the room now. I pushed the door open. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. All in quick succession. Then, I was in.

The sports channel was on and the light from the TV illuminated the figure of my dad, fast asleep underneath the covers. Next to his bed, my couchbed was all set up, waiting for me in the corner of the room.

I did my nightly routine and changed into my pajamas before I went to bed. Although I was safe and sound inside of my room, my paranoia wouldn't leave me be. What if they tried to break in? What if they knew a way to break in somehow? If they did that while I was sleeping, I'd be completely defenseless.

I tried to calm myself down. I told myself that there was no way that they could break in because they didn't have my card key. I tried to tell myself, You're safe. It's okay. That didn't work. I tried taking slow, deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth...That didn't work, either.

I tried to reason my emotions away. You're just being paranoid. It's the social anxiety. You're overreacting. That didn't help.

I wound up taking a Klonopin.

A while later, mom returned to the room. A part of me wanted to come out from underneath the covers and cry out, "Mom!" But I decided against it. Those guys scared me, sure, but they didn't do anything to me, so nothing would come out of talking about it. Besides, I didn't want Mom to worry. She already had enough on her plate with her parents and the whole point of going on this cruise was to get away from all of that and relax. So I kept quiet and cried myself to sleep.

They were once so happy, so whole. When did their happiness become so broken, so scattered among all of the stupid, pointless arguments? How did he get here, stuck in traffic, being screamed at for being a female coworker's Secret Santa? Shouldn't she know by now? His life was hers.

The moment you bought me, I was your slave. You took me out of my seal and placed me on your desk, leaving me be until you needed me. You used me to erase your mistakes on your homework, on your artwork.

At first, I hated the way you held me. You grasped onto one end of me tightly and pressed the other side down onto the paper, moving me back and forth. White, hot panic rushed through me as pieces of me peeled off. I was disappearing. It hurt. It burned. I screamed for you to stop, but you either didn’t hear me or ignored me completely. You just continued to use me without a care.

Somewhere along the way, I realized: this was my purpose. This was what I was made to do. This was why I was called an eraser.

I grew to hate being alone. I began to long for your touch, your squeeze. It was what I lived for. The thrill that came with the pain. It was the only thing I ever felt. Without it, I felt empty.

Over time, I grew smaller and smaller until I was just a small stub. As I grew smaller, you grew bigger. Now, you pinched me in between your huge pointer finger and thumb. I knew it was going to be the last time you used me. I was too small to last. This was the end. I was going to disappear. For good. I didn’t know how to feel. I was overcome by a rush of emotion. I was thrilled. I was horrified. I was happy. I was heartbroken.

I loved the pain, the burn. I didn’t want to disappear. I was able to be useful to you. But I was expendable, wasn’t I? You were going to go back to that stupid drug store to get another eraser, weren’t you?

Well, joke’s on you. After you rubbed me out of existance, I went to eraser heaven where I met a nice eraser that I could rub against, all day, every day. So, suck on that, you bastard!